Carol's Special Box of Lost Items
by obriens
Summary: Carol has a small box where she keeps things she's found during runs. It's personal and hers, but she will show it to Daryl anyway.


_Summary: Carol has a small box where she keeps things she's found during runs. It's personal and hers, but she will show it to Daryl anyway._

_note; written for uss-caryl's fanfic contest (i was the first submission...yay?). rules: must take place in the watchtower, include a toothbrush, a shoe box, a rubber duck and a purple scarf. the time of this story isn't set but id say after daryl came back. before or after 3x16 that's up to you. enjoy?_

* * *

Judith was asleep.

Finally.

As much as Carol loved that baby like her own, she did have strong lungs and wouldn't go to sleep unless she wished to. She had spent the last hour cooing her and kissing her and trying to get her to sleep. Beth gave up two hours before and left the little Grimes with Carol. When Sophia was a baby, it would take hours of playing and singing to get her to fall asleep, and Judith was just like that.

Carol lay down on her bed, closing her eyes and willing herself to sleep. It didn't happen. She was so so tired, yet, it seemed as though her mind wouldn't stop running. She sighed and sat down, wondering what to do.

Everyone was most likely asleep, or in Glenn and Maggie's case, kissing or cuddling or having sex. Those two were never tired when it came to that. Since Judith wouldn't wake up for probably another two or three hours, she did what her mind thought was the most sensible choice.

She went to see Daryl.

Whenever they were together, talking wasn't a necessity. They could spend hours on end just sitting there, enjoying each other's company in silence. And Carol liked it. She liked it because Daryl wasn't an easy person to understand, and he didn't let himself get too close to people. But he made an exception for her, and that made her heart flutter and her cheeks flush and her fingers tingle. This time, though, she wanted to talk to him. To tell him something. To show him something personal.

So she made her way to the watchtower.

Daryl heard her before she had even reached the door. Her footsteps were light and easy to recognize. He could recognize them anywhere. He didn't acknowledge her, but Carol knew he wouldn't so she just leaned against the railing beside him.

"Hey."

Daryl did turn his head to look at her this time, offering her a small nod. They both stood there, looking down at the prison and beyond. The nights were getting colder, people asking for extra blankets. Hell, Daryl was wearing his leather jacket. That should've made it quite clear how cold it was. Carol shivered. She wrapped her scarf higher around her neck.

"Where'd you get that scarf?"

Carol turned her head to smile at him. "I made it," she said proudly.

Daryl's lips twitched upward. "Didn't know you could knit."

"I couldn't," she admitted, "Found one of those knitting-for-kids in a shop during a run one day. Thought it might be useful for the winter."

He nodded. Carol was always reminding everybody that you could never be prepared for the winter. They may not have the prison by then so it's always good to have some back up warm clothes.

"Guess that explains the color."

"What's wrong with purple?" she scoffed, "It even has yellow stripes! Doesn't that make it cute?"

You're cute, Daryl wanted to say. But he wouldn't. He wouldn't cause it would only ruin everything, make her reconsider her friendship with him and back away once she realized he liked her more than he should. She'd realize that he's just redneck trash and shouldn't be talking with the likes of him. She was too kind, too beautiful. Too good for him.

"It don't make a difference," was all he said.

Carol giggled quietly, earning a grin from Daryl. "You know, I was thinking of giving it to Judy on Christmas."

Daryl smiled at the thought, "She's gonna love it," he reassured her. And when he said it, he meant it. Cause who wouldn't love something made by her?

Daryl shook his head out of those thoughts. "Was thinking of going on a hunt tomorrow. Grab us all somethin' to eat."

Carol laughed, "As long as it isn't any more squirrels."

"Nah," he chuckled, "Was thinking of deer."

"Oh, God," Carol sighed, "Isn't there anything other than squirrels and deer in Georgia lately?"

Daryl frowned. Sometimes when he did that he looked like a litlle kid who wasn't allowed to get dessert. Carol found it adorable.

"What's wrong with deer?"

"It's all we ever ate for months before the prison," Carol pointed out, "It would be nice to get some chicken, you know."

Daryl scoffed, "Deer are fucking majestic, woman."

Carol couldn't help but laugh, "Well, if deer are so awesome, then why do you go around shooting Bambi?"

"You don't shoot Bambi," Daryl looked at her like she was mad. For a second, Carol thought she had said something wrong. Until Daryl smirked, "You shoot his mother."

And she laughed.

They fell into a comfortable silence afterwards, staring once again at the woods. Carol slowly raised a small box she had been holding and opened it.

"What's that?" Daryl asked.

"A shoebox."

"No shit," he chuckled.

"It's my special shoebox," she said, a smirk playing at her lips, "I keep important things here."

Carol passed the box over to Daryl, letting him look over the items. Daryl chuckled at some of them; a magazine, a Beatles CD, a book, a candy bar, some chick flick he thought he saw once on TV. Small stuff that somehow had a meaning to her. He had to snort at one of the most ridiculous items.

A toothbrush.

He looked over at Carol, his eyes demanding to know the meaning behind a simple toothbrush. Carol's smile faltered a bit and her eyes became sad. That's when Daryl thought maybe he shouldn't have asked.

"Sophia used to have a toothbrush like that."

He definitely shouldn't have.

"When she was about eight she got obsessed with electric toothbrushes. The one with the little mermaid on it? That was her favorite."

Daryl only nodded and looked down at the field. Sophia was an open wound for both of them. It was raw and it hurt because no matter how many stitches you got it would still open up. Sophia had been Carol's daughter, so obviously her death would never leave her. But Sophia haunted Daryl as well. He didn't know why, or how, but there wasn't a day in which he didn't think of the little blonde girl, clutching her doll against her blue t-shirt. Sophia wasn't his daughter, but he kind of wished she had been. He would've been a good father for her, he would've protected her, taken her on hunting trips. Maybe, she would've been alive today.

"Would you have taught her how to use a weapon?"

Daryl looked up at her, not believing what just came out of her mouth. He gulped and nodded, "I'd have taught her how to use a crossbow, given her one of her own."

Carol smiled sadly, "She would've liked you, you know? She was really shy, but once she let someone in she showed them how smart and witty she was," Carol chuckled, remembering happier times with her daughter, "But she was kind of a rebel, once told her teacher to 'go suck the principal's dick' just because she gave her a B on her report."

Daryl laughed. Sophia sounded like the kind of kid he would've liked talking to, "She sounds like you."

Carol stared at him, surprised. She sent him a small smile and looked back at the woods, "Maybe. But I think she sounds more like herself than anyone else."

Silence came again, and this time, it wasn't as heavy as the one before. Daryl liked when Carol talked about Sophia. Sure, it pained him and he wanted to tune everything out, get her to shut up and sometimes even cry, but at the same time, he wanted to listen. Every little story and detail Carol let on about her made him feel like he knew her, just a little bit. And that made him feel good. Because at least she was alive in their memories, even when they hadn't shared them.

His eyes fell back on the box, noticing a small yellow object. He took it out and snorted at the sight.

"What's up with the rubber duck?"

Carol looked up to see Daryl examining the small toy. She smiled. Usually she would be the one to change the subject, but tonight, she was glad it had been him.

"Everyone should have a rubber duck," she replied in a disbelieving tone, "What kind of bath would it be without a rubber duck?"

Daryl chuckled, "Never had one."

"Then your life officially starts today, mister!"

They shared a laugh. Carol always felt better at the sound of his laugh. Daryl barely smiled on a daily basis, but the fact that she could get him to laugh always made her stomach twist in a way it had never done before, not even with Ed. It made her feel special.

"You should go to sleep," Daryl said after a while, "Get some rest before Lil' Ass Kicker is back kicking our asses."

Carol giggled, "You sure you don't want me to stay?"

"I want you to stay," he whispered, so quietly he thought she might have missed it. But she didn't, and he noticed, so he looked away, his cheeks red as he grunted, "B-But you need sleep. Stayin' up ain't no good for you."

Carol stood there, watching him. She heard him, and she didn't know what to think about that. He was always confusing her, making her think that he might feel the same away, giving her hope that there was a slight chance for her. But then he would make it seem like he thought of her as family. But as long as she could still get close to him, she wouldn't mind. Family was fine.

She nodded and started to walk away when she stopped dead in her tracks and turned back to Daryl. She leaned on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his cheek. She quickly pulled back and smiled shyly.

"Goodnight, Daryl."

She turned around and made her way to the door. Daryl stood there, startled. The spot her lips brushed was burning and his chest felt weird and warm and he was at a loss of words. She gave him one last look before she left.

And then he smiled.

"Night."

And sure, it was just a kiss on the cheek. And it was wet and chaste and ended all too soon. And maybe they didn't go around making out or flirting out in the open. But that was fine by them. Because it was so simple and so natural and so unconventional and so fucking _them_ that complaining would've been crazy.

They took what they got, and it was perfect that way, rubber duck included.


End file.
